


Getting Better

by AgenderAnarky



Category: DCU (Comics), Shade the Changing Man (Comics)
Genre: Ableism, Disabled!Shade, Fanon Disabled Character, Light Angst, ME? Self projecting?? Its more likely then you think!, Medical Trauma, Memory focused storytelling, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Not Canon Compliant, Ok im done now with tags i promise, Past Abuse, Shade the changing man said disabled rights!, Slow and poetic because i'm a nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgenderAnarky/pseuds/AgenderAnarky
Summary: Shade reminsces about his past experiences with his disabilities.(Title shamelessly taken from a Beatles song of the same name)





	Getting Better

**Author's Note:**

> Whaddup my name's Lonnie this is my first fic ever on ao3 and i'd die for shade the changing man! 
> 
> *Important note: This isn't canon compliant at all, and takes place in an universe where i've basically rewritten the entirety of Vertigo's “Shade The Changing Man (1990)” because fuck you. Die mad about it, my house MY canon.

 

Shade has many memories.

He's lived through so much, and was left with a never ending library of experiences in return.

The adventures were over, the boots put away for now, but that didn’t mean they'd ever go away.

 Sitting on the porch, cigarette in hand, Shade closes their eyes, and remembers.

 

******* 

 

Shade is seven, and they're made a mockery of by other kids.

The boys sneer behind his back and cackle menacingly, vultures on the prowl.  
  
‘Slow’. ‘Challenged’. ‘Dumb’.

Those are the terms used to describe him, the lone boy with a lisp ridden tongue who couldn’t keep his hands still.

 

Shade is thirteen, and the jeers never stopped.

Their mother gets worried, makes phone calls and appointments that go nowhere.

As she frets, Shade climbs hills to watch the golden sunset, letting out a tear or two.

Mathematics and science are overlooked for poetry, the works of Byron, Robert Frost, to Meta's own pre-sacred prose.

One day, he does the unthinkable, and meekly knocks on the door of a girl he always liked, just to ask a simple question of-

 

“Wanna hang out together?”

 

She answers, then screams, and before Shade knows it, they're being choked in someone’s arms, and everything’s gone too loud, there’s too many people, vomit building up in his throat-

He finds himself in the nearest church. A group of wizened men tutter and tsk, before a bright light comes on, a machine whirls on, and Shade's vision suddenly goes black.

They try to fix him, but it never works.

 

******* 

 

Shade's seventeen, and he finally feels happiness for the first time.

He laughs, and smiles, and clutches his boyfriend's hand as they sprint down the dimly lit streets, hearts warm and full of joy.

Shade thinks, at that moment, they love him, they really do, and he wishes that they never be separated.

Those wishes are crushed the moment the church comes in and tears them apart, and all Shade knows of for four years is hospital beds and syringes.

 

Shade's twenty one, and they believe they ‘cured’ him, made them a sensible citizen of society, ready for college and the occupational personality test and the real world.

They may think it, but it’s not true.

********* 

 

Shade recalls the time, he and Kathy got drunk in a car and sobbed for a good hour or two, bleeding their bloody hearts out.

She tries to hold in tears as the words tumble out of her mouth, confessions of guilt and sorrow regarding her parents and Rodger's death, the pain that plagues her subconscious on a daily basis. The horror. The nightmares. The evenings she woke up with her head in the toilet, puking her guts out with a ringing headache.

Shade holds her close, lets Kathy sob into their hair, as he dissociates and mumbles about his own sob story. The days at the hospital. The constant ringing in his ears whenever they get near needles. The putrid anxiety and tension Shade feels, seeing anybody who even so much as looks like a Doctor. The puncture holes that will never go away.

They hold each other close, and let the misery envelope its being around both.

They’re two broken people, but at least they could be broken together.

 

********

 

Shade has tics, he knows he does.

He always taps his feet to nonexistent beats, bites at his nails, swirls and tugs at a specific strand of hair, even scratches at his skin if he's feeling desperate, and overall is a nuisance to everyone around him.

Everyone, but Kathy and Lenny.

Never do they snide at him, give them the stink eye for flapping their hands around. Not once is his shirt chewing and pen chewing ever brought up and chided.

Whenever he gets excited about things, from the Beatles to old sixties movies, and starts rambling on and on for far too long, neither of them tell him to stop.

They let him do all these things, things that would have annoyed anybody else, whilst cracking jokes about some shitty radio host on the TV, Lenny telling him terror stories about earth just to playfully freak him out.

It’s nice. Really nice.

 

********

 

They were scared of people. Simple as.

Human or Alien interaction, communication, bonding, was a difficult task for Shade to complete, especially when he's spent all his life being shunned by the people he’s supposed to befriend.

That’s why, it always baffled him at how much of a liking he took towards Richard.

Granted, Shade was doing much better now, much better then when he first stumbled  into earth, his paranoia dampening thanks to a mixture of well thought out self care and the girl's support.

Still.

The affinity he had for Rickie was outstanding, the amount of sheer love he managed to garner for The Englishman in as short of time as two months never failing to amaze him.

Though, as they lay across strawberry fields together, watching the stars twinkle in the midnight sky whilst the Beatles “Magic Mystery Tour” album hums in the background, Shade can admit they’re glad about this recent development.

 

*******

 

Their body was atrocious, and Shade knew it.

Everyday, he'd dread waking up, dread having to see his gaudy, frail face in the mirror.

Shade hates his scars. Downright despises them.

The way they glisten mockingly, as if making a travesty out of his past trauma- it's horrific, frankly, in his humble opinion.

But it wasn’t just the scars. 

It was also his body just bursting out in pain at night, his ribs, back, neck and hips deciding that now was the time to flair in shearing agony.

The way his hands become numb, and cramp up, or his knees beginning to shake involuntarily, and god, it’s just awful.

There are times it's so bad Shade Doesn’t, Can't, even get out of bed, tiny form huddled under think blankets and hissing out between sobs,

 

“Don’t touch me. Please, don’t fucking touch me.”

  
  
It's revolting, but.

  

He prevails. No matter the pain, and reluctance, he gets up eventually, and goes on, to survive one more day despite the self loathing.

 

After a while, Shade gets fed up, tired by his constant self pity, and starts trying to do something about his bodily image, one day returning home with a giant set of body paints and brushes and making a mess out of their living room.

The scars on his arms are now galaxies, red and pink and maroon and bubblegum, with pretty little white dots scattered across, forming constellations.

It doesn’t fix everything, but at least now Shade can finally start wearing short sleeves again, and feel genuinely proud of some part of his appearance for once.

 

********

 

The hardest part for Shade was always letting go. 

Letting go of the past. Letting go of his mistakes. Letting go of his sorrow, his worries, his intrusive thoughts.

To allow the chance of change, self improvement, self care and self love to seep into his pores.

As he caresses his former lover's mutilated, pained face, and promises him that they'll meet again some day in a champagne supernova, blood on his hands as the world around him goes to shit and explodes in a flurry of shapes and colours-

Shade reflects about how letting go was always the hardest part for them.

 

*********

 

Shade sighs heavily, before jolting, when Lenny's sharp elbow prods him in the side.

“Hey, bumblebee, you just gonna spend all day sitting outside? Or are you gonna come in already and watch the game with us?”

She smirks, dark eyes bright and shining with good-natured mischief. Shade scoffs, smiling.

“Yea, yea, gimme a minute.”

She boops his nose, grinning as she goes back inside. “Don’t wait up, sunshine.”

As Shade watches Lenny collapse into Kathy's arms, snuggling close to her, Rickie putting the kettle on and chuckling at some tale Lilly created on the spot, he wonders if they know _just_ how much they grew to mean to him over the years.

 


End file.
